The Fear of Change
by Miss Pookie Fethers
Summary: Lucy Daniells, just another member of the 100, worries about the changing motives and personalities of her campmates. Will words from Clarke help her accept the situation? Or will her inner guilt make her lose faith in everyone around her? One-shot (may be added to in future) Takes place after the episode 'Day Trip'.


**Hi everyone! So I've been watching series 1 of 'The 100' on TV for a while now (we don't have series 2 in the UK so no spoilers please!) and I've really been enjoying it, so I decided to write a short one-shot with an OC character insert that takes place directly after the episode 'Day Trip'. This took longer to write than I thought it would! XD**

**I hope you like it! Please leave a review, I REALLY appreciate them. :)**

_**The 100 and all its affiliates do not belong to me. Only my writing and OC belongs to me.**_

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><p><em><span>The Fear of Change<span>_

I sat in the camp as the night loomed over the forest like a black rain-cloud. My fingers felt rough from the dirt that covered my fingers, and my clothes were sticky and humid against my skin. Over time, I had become used to this feeling; we were camping alone in a forest after all, but it felt worse than usual right now. It wasn't the first time I wished I could be back on the Ark. At least everything was simple there, unlike here, where there are no laws and things just become complicated.

My head was resting against the trunk of a tree behind me, the rough, knobbly surface causing me further discomfort, but I managed to tolerate it. Though the night was well into its midway point by now, most people were still awake, and there was a big reason why. Not long ago, Clarke and Bellamy had brought back a ton of weaponry; large guns that had been found in an emergency bunker not far from here. The entire group were in awe and excitement over being able to fight against the Grounders, but to tell you the truth, I was not feeling the same way. I almost felt shameful for being sceptical over being able to defend ourselves from those dangerous people; it was to protect ourselves, nothing more. Or was it? It seemed to me like everyone had developed a sudden thirst for murdering the Grounders, rather than just wanting to keep the 100 safe from harm.

Was I wrong for thinking this? My conscience was telling me I might be, but my heart was also thudding painfully with guilt. I just couldn't help thinking that the idea of recklessly killing other human beings was wrong. Where had our ethics gone? Maybe there was another way... but how was I supposed to tell them that?

I shouldn't mention it at all, I thought to myself, it'll only get me into trouble. What would they do to me if I spoke my mind? I wasn't sure, but I was afraid it would be something bad.

Listen to me. I'm afraid of them. My own people, maybe even my own friends. I never would have been afraid before. What's happened to us?

Despite my skin feeling hot, I wrapped by anorak tighter around myself as the evening breeze began to cut into my neck. The place I had chosen to sit was closed off from everyone else, since I didn't want anyone coming near me right now. I didn't feel like I could trust any of them anymore. I glimpsed Clarke emerging from one of the tents, likely having just checked on Finn.

Clarke, at least, I still trusted. She had always been trustworthy, from my time on the Ark to here on the ground. But she was going along with the idea of killing the Grounders, killing other human beings. I remember when we first arrived on the ground, she probably wouldn't have condoned that. But we were all being transformed by our time here, even the best people.

As Clarke strolled through the mass of people, I noticed her eyes waver on those who were handling guns. It wasn't a happy expression, but she didn't seem angry or afraid either. Was she just going to accept what was happening? Or was she just putting on a straight face for everyone else's sake?

She eventually came closer to where I was sitting, her hands in her pockets. Her eyes met mine and she gave me a small smile as she approached. "How are you?" she asked solemnly.

I paused before answering, shrugging my shoulders. "Not bad," I replied, turning my head to look at the ground.

Clarke stood watching me for a moment, then she removed her hands from her jacket and sat down beside me, leaning against the tree. I didn't meet her gaze, but I could feel her concerned eyes on me. She obviously wanted to talk.

"It's kind of late, you should be getting some sleep," she said. I shook my head, still keeping my eyes away from hers.

"I don't feel like sleeping at the moment, Clarke. My mind's all over the place."

I finally looked up to meet her gaze. She gave me a brief, understanding nod and then her own eyes wandered away to stare at the ground. "So's mine."

I felt a pang of guilt inside me. Of course, I thought, she's thinking about Finn. Ever since Raven arrived and Finn was attacked by a grounder, Clarke had been very distant. She had also lost Wells, who was obviously a good friend of hers. I had never experienced the death of someone close to me, so had no idea how she may be feeling. I decided to press the conversation.

"I'm sorry, Clarke, I... I don't know what to think at the moment. Everything's so messed up."

Clarke sighed softly. "I know it's a little weird right now, Lucy, but things can get better. That's something you shouldn't forget. Soon enough, people from the Ark are going to come down and help us, and until then, we can protect ourselves against the Grounders."

I felt a slight lump in my throat. Her words didn't bring me much comfort, not because I didn't believe her, but because I wasn't sure how the 100 holding a bunch of guns would make me feel any safer.

"But, Clarke... that's the problem," I said, my voice catching and my eyelashes growing damp.

She frowned a little. "What are you talking about?" she asked calmly.

"It's just... all this. All the killing, violence... no-one seems to be themselves any more. We've all got guns now, Clarke! What's become of us?" I tried very hard to contain my sobs, but I felt one tear slide down my cheek.

"It's been scary, Lucy, I know. I've been afraid myself. But Bellamy told me something important, and I've been thinking about it for the whole day: it's not about who we are, but who we need to be to survive. If we have to kill, I'm going to find it really hard, but we don't have another option. It's not like the Grounders are going to negotiate."

"But how can you know that? We don't understand them, we don't know a thing about them! Octavia kept telling us that one of them saved her life! Maybe we should listen to her, maybe they could all be like that!"

"Lucy, they killed two people," Clarke exclaimed, "and we almost lost Finn because of them. I don't think we can give them any second chances!"

I couldn't think of any other words to say. "I-I just... don't feel comfortable with the idea of violence, Clarke. A while ago, you wouldn't have been either."

Clarke looked down at her hands, fiddling awkwardly. "Things change. We can't tread around them forever."

I didn't want to upset Clarke, but deep inside me, I felt angry and wanted to cry out at everyone. I wiped my face with my sleeve and spoke to her firmly. "Do what you want, Clarke. But I'm not handling one of those guns. Ever."

She looked up to stare at me with a look of discomfort, but she seemed to be accepting what I said. I then realised my voice had been quite loud. Bellamy was lingering nearby, having just emerged from his tent, and had caught the words I had just spoken. He approached where Clarke and I were sitting, his eyes fixed on me.

"You're not refusing to use the equipment, are you?" he questioned, pointing a finger straight at me. "The stuff that we tredged for hours to find?"

I swallowed, feeling anxious, but I didn't want Bellamy to overpower me; I never had done since we arrived on the ground. In fact, I often found myself wishing he had never been on the ground in the first place. There was just something about his personality I didn't like.

"I've never shot anything before, and I never will," I said loudly, "and I'm sorry if you don't like it, but I don't think anyone else should either."

"Hey, why the hell are you talking like that?" he snapped back at me. "It's not up to you how things are run around here!"

"It isn't up to you either." I felt an anxious sting of regret as soon as the words left my mouth.

"You can think on your ethics as much as you want, but unless you want to get killed and let everyone else around you die, you should consider getting your priorities right."

"Bellamy!" Clarke said calmly but firmly.

"What? It's not my fault if some people can't show any gratitude for us helping them stay alive!"

"It's not about that," I said quietly, hanging my head to avoid his gaze.

"Isn't it?" Bellamy snarled. I felt Clarke clutch my wrist comfortingly. "Because what I see is someone trying to be resilient. You don't want to accept the situation we're in, so you won't do anything to help."

"Well, obviously it's difficult to accept the situation, Bellamy!" I exclaimed, staring him straight in the face, but trying not to get angry. "It's been hard for all of us, even if they won't admit it! I bet even you found it difficult to begin with. But I've never said I don't want to help. Of course I do, in any way that I can!"

I glanced over at the rest of the group, fumbling with the great, black machines and aiming them at random targets. "I just can't bring myself to be violent. It's not in my nature. I don't think it should be in anyone's."

"The Grounders are never going to stop being violent towards us," Clarke said gently, shifting forward to look directly at me., "and we can't sit around and do nothing just because we don't feel what we're doing is right."

"It is right," Bellamy affirmed, "we're defending ourselves and getting rid of scum, that's all there is to it."

Scum?! I wanted to throw so many insults at Bellamy in that moment, but I bit my lip hard to stop myself from saying things I would regret.

"Both of you need to go to bed and rest," he said to us sternly, "God knows what we'll have thrown at us tomorrow with Octavia's friend on the loose."

My heart churned with annoyance from his sarcastic comment, but I still kept my mouth firmly closed as he walked away to converse with the group. I sighed quietly to myself, suddenly feeling the chilliness of the night air shiver up my spine.

"He's right, we'd better sleep," I said to Clarke, not looking at her. I pulled myself to my feet and stretched my aching hands out. "See you in the morning, Clarke."

As I turned and began to walk to my tent, I heard her voice call after me. "Lucy, wait a second."

I turned back to face her as she walked up to me. She didn't seem to know what to say as her eyes wavered from me to the ground beneath our feet. After a few seconds of silence, she stepped towards me with a small smile and pulled me into a gentle hug. I pressed my nose into her shoulder and held my hands tightly around her, feeling grateful for some physical contact. My throat tightened painfully and a few tears began to roll down my face.

"It's gonna get better, I promise you," Clarke said softly.

I sniffed my tears back. "You can't promise that, Clarke," I whimpered, "you don't know that it's all going to be okay. None of us do."

"I'm still promising you," she said firmly, tightening her grip around me, "and you should believe me. That kind of hope helps you carry on."

I stayed quiet for a few seconds, and then I nodded, a small wisp of happiness sweeping through me. We pulled apart to smile at each other, Clarke giving my shoulder a reassuring rub, and then she slowly walked away. I let my gaze linger on the silhouettes of the group in the distance, the camp fire billowing high, illuminating their faces. I had no power to stop what they were doing or how they were feeling. I just told myself that I wouldn't succumb to it myself. There was no way I would take part in any kind of slaughter, even if it was directed at our enemies.

I let out a heavy sigh, my breath emerging from my mouth in a thin cloud of mist. I suddenly felt very drowsy. If only I could have slept in something more comfortable than a lonely, damp tent with no-one to talk to...

But Clarke's words echoed in my mind, and I forced myself to believe them. Surely, things wouldn't be like this forever. Letting out a quiet yawn, I turned myself away from the now bloodthirsty teenagers and retreated to my tiny tent in the corner of the camp. Hopefully tomorrow would be a better day...


End file.
